


Stars Falling From the Sky

by Isis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has her reasons for not wishing to be married.  Alayne has hers, as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars Falling From the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts identity, smell, Winterfell

Alayne was ignoring her embroidery in favor of staring out the window at the falling snow, when Mya swung into the room. "I hear you're to be married," she said without preamble.

She sighed. "I should not be surprised you have found out." 

Mya grinned. "As if anything goes on in the Vale that I do not know about." Her grin vanished as she sat beside Alayne, and her voice took on an edge. "And to a trueborn squire. How does a bastard girl manage that, I wonder?"

 _I hope you do not find out until it is done_ , she thought. She shrugged as though it did not concern her overmuch. "You know my father."

"How nice that Lord Petyr takes an interest in your welfare." That edge, thought Alayne, was sharp enough to cut oneself on. She wondered whether it was Mya's own diminished marriage prospects that she resented, or the absence of her royal father from her life. Probably the latter. 

When she thought of her life as Sansa ( _be careful, girl_ , a small voice in the back of her head warned her) it seemed strange how she had weighted those things. Marriage to the golden Prince was everything; her father was just her father, a constant and sometimes aloof presence, until suddenly, horribly, he was not. 

Now she knew how badly she had erred in her choices of what to esteem. She had not, after all, married Prince Joffrey, but he had taught her how empty a husband's love could be; and she had been forced to marry the dwarf Tyrion, who had taught her how empty a loveless marriage could be. Sansa did not care to be married except for the tantalizing promise it held of her identity returned. And of Winterfell. Winterfell.

Her heart clenched, but no trace of her emotion showed upon her face. Sansa Stark thought upon these things, but Alayne Stone did not. Alayne did not care to be married, but her reasons were different.

It was Alayne who smiled at Mya. "He takes an interest in everything that might bring him profit, you know that. Sometimes I think life was easier in the sept. But I am glad he brought me to the Vale." Gently she raised a hand to twine through Mya's short hair, and saw Mya's face soften.

"You will leave when you are married." The sharpness was gone. 

"That will not be for some time."

"Then we must make the most of the time we have." Mya caught at her hand and pulled her close, and Alayne wrapped her other arm around Mya's strong, slender waist as they kissed. Mya was still dressed in her leathers, and smelled of their smoky tang and barn-scent; she must have been seeing to the mules before she came up to Alayne's room.

She slid her hand out of Mya's and began unfastening the leather laces. "You smell like the barn, you know that?"

"Does it please you?" Mya teased.

Alayne peeled the leather away from Mya's breasts and bent her head between them, sniffed. Smoke and sweat, sharp and not unpleasant. Her father always wore scent and liked her to do so as well, but there was something about Mya's natural scent that was far more appealing to her. It did not hide anything, or pretend to be something it was not; it simply was. 

Delicately she licked a path down the skin exposed as the lacings parted. "This pleases me," she said, cupping a hand around one small breast. She tasted it with a flick of her tongue, then moved to the other, circling the dark nipple with her fingers and mouth. "And this one, too."

"Ah, Alayne –"

"And this."

"Ah!"

Then the only noises were Mya's soft groans and intakes of breath; her own mouth was too busy to speak. Mya's hands pushed restlessly at the neckline of Alayne's gown, her hips shifted and her legs parted, and Alayne felt intoxicated with the scent and the power of it, that it was what she did that caused Mya to make those small sounds, the clear signs of her delight. 

"You are not in a hurry to do have your husband do this?" Mya asked later, when she had stripped Alayne of her gown and they both lay naked upon the bed. With one of her hands on Alayne's smoothly shaven skin, the other thrusting deeply inside, she played Alayne as though she were playing a harp, and Alayne arched and gasped and tried to speak, and Mya laughed at her attempts to form words. 

"Mya, you – oh, do not be – ah!" 

Mya's lips bent close to her ear. "You do not wish for a prick instead?" The hand inside her moved, and she whimpered.

"I – no, please, it is you, I want no – ah, no other, please –" 

"Will you shave your cunt for him?"

"For you alone, I swear it," she whispered brokenly, and it was true, because although Sansa carefully removed her nether hair so its color would not betray her, Alayne did it only to please her lover; and then Mya's fingers strummed another chord, outside and in, and she came apart with a sob, her hand tightening on Mya's shoulder, her breath catching in her throat like a fluttering bird.

They lay there together for some moments, Mya idly playing with Alayne's hair, Alayne watching the snow fall outside the window. In the time they had been together in the room the sky had darkened with the gathering clouds, and now the snow was falling fast and thick, the crystalline flakes so large that she could see their shapes, like stars falling from the sky.

"I do not care to marry," she said, as she looked out the window. "I would be here with you, for as long as I could be." 

Mya bent a kiss to the top of her head. "And I with you. But you will be married, and you will forget me."

"I do not care to marry," repeated Alayne. But Sansa looked out the window and thought only, _Winter_ _is coming_.


End file.
